


Kid from Crime Alley

by CaffeineGinger



Series: His Dark [Knight] Materials [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Batfamily (DCU), Gen, accidental family acquisition, do not copy to another site, no beta we die like robins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:55:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24789613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaffeineGinger/pseuds/CaffeineGinger
Summary: In a world where daemons live side-by-side with their humans, a young Jason Todd encounters the Batman.(Some things are the same from universe to universe.)
Relationships: Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne
Series: His Dark [Knight] Materials [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1793002
Comments: 6
Kudos: 66





	Kid from Crime Alley

**Author's Note:**

> In my head, this story is part of a much larger 'verse. I've had bits and pieces of it outlined for years, figured I'd post this and see if anyone was interested in the rest :)  
> Also, here's a link to [headcannons I've posted](https://daemons-not-rogues.tumblr.com/post/621308411583381504/dchis-dark-materials) about this crossover. Come yell at me about them [on tumblr!](https://daemons-not-rogues.tumblr.com/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit 06.21.20 - fixed the line breaks that were missing at the POV shifts

It’s been a long time since The Batman has felt _predictable._ But when he runs out of other logical explanations – other reasons for the unnatural quiet that has fallen over Crime Alley this September night, Bruce has to admit: it may be time to give up this yearly pilgrimage. Seems the memo has gone out - _this_ night is the night Batman comes to the Alley. 

Oh, sure – it might not be the _only_ night of the year Crime Alley’s denizens spot the Bat. With all Batman’s cases, it would take some kind of massive conspiracy to keep _any_ of them from leading back to Park Row. But Bruce will admit (in his head, at least, where no one can hear) – he doesn’t have much use for patrolling the Alley for most of the year. It’s too depressing – so little he can do, no real impact to be made. 

But on this night, at least, it seems knowledge of his presence is enough. He really ought to start spreading that knowledge out a bit. See if fear of his presence can do a little more good, _other_ nights of the year. 

Then again, maybe crime hasn’t _completely_ deserted the Alley for the evening.

Bruce stares in utter shock, taking in the jack, the missing tires. _I don’t believe it,_ he thinks to himself. 

_Is this a message of some sort?_

_A warning? Some – petty revenge?_

_A show of defiance?_

Then, bewildered, _what could have_ possibly _possessed someone._

“What do you think, Ana? Back for the last one?” Jason Todd whispers to his daemon in the dark, unnatural quiet. He’s considering calling it a night. That third tire – even with the rope-and-pulley system he’s rigged, counterweights and all, hauling that last one up to his squat and then climbing the fire escape after it nearly did him in. 

But he’s feeling brave – bold – there’s some kind of magic filtering through the Alley tonight; it’s got nearly everyone spooked. But not him. Jason feels safer than he has in years; has to keep reminding himself to check with Ana before rounding every corner, the habit of paranoia that’s kept him alive all these years seeming to desert him. Ana glows briefly, a firefly in the dark. 

“I sense no one – no one but the bums on the next block. They won’t bother us,” she answers confidently. 

It’s odd, this thing that Ana can do – at least, according to Mamá. She made him keep it a secret from his dad – from Willis – never told him why, but Jason’s not stupid. He worked out for himself what having a partner that can _sense_ another daemon’s presence is worth - regardless of how well they might be hid, or which direction she's looking. He’d been using it himself ever since they ended up on the street. He wasn’t sure that Mamá would be proud – but hey, he’d listened. Never told a _soul,_ just like she wanted.

Jason shook off the thoughts of his mother, gripping the tire iron tight as he popped back into the alley where he’d left the swank black vehicle. He would beat himself up for not recognizing it, later – blame his overconfidence on the weird feeling of _safety_ he’d had the whole, quiet night long.

When the voice came out of the dark, that feeling shattered. It sounded like no voice he’d ever heard – and ‘Snells’ Fertelli sounded like he was gargling _glass._

“Come back to finish the job?”

Ana ‘meeped’ and fell out of the air, shifting rapidly to her best “Beast” and growling. (They’d watched The Sandlot through a neighbor’s window last week and it was the fiercest form she could think of.) 

“Shit!” Jason cursed, slipping backward hastily. The _Batman_ emerged from the darkness beside the vehicle – _his_ vehicle, Jason suddenly realized.

“Now, you’re going to give me back my tires.” The voice was much less frightening this time, sounding merely tired, instead of hell-spawn-esque. 

Jason slipped sideways, trying to keep the car between them, but the Batman followed.

“Wh - who says I took ‘em?” Jason tries for nonchalant. He thinks he at least stayed this side of ‘terrified panic’. He gulps.

Bruce barely managed to hide his surprise when the daemon – now a young Mastiff pup, by the looks of it – fell out of the air and growled at him. Somehow, even though he’d seen just how small the thief was, he hadn’t quite managed to internalize that it was a young _child_ making his night so very interesting. But a daemon who hadn’t _settled_ – he had to adjust his age range down, further.

He frowned, turning off his voice modulator when he realized the poor soul was shaking like a leaf.

“Now, you’re going to give me back my tires-” he began, not entirely sure what to do next about the kid, but knowing he at least needed a ride in working order.

“W-who says I took ‘em?” the boy challenges, before he can continue. Bruce feels the corner of his mouth twitch and locks it down. He raises an eyebrow, even though it won’t be seen under the cowl. 

“What else is the tire iron for?” he asks, dryly.

He’s definitely not expecting the answer he gets.

“This!” Jason shouts, swinging with all his might. He has no idea what’s come over him, inspired him to strike the _Batman,_ but he knows enough not to hang around, after. He and Ana take off running, back the way they came.

 _Well, Mamá, guess Ana an’ I’ll be seein’ you sooner than we planned. You’ll’ve all the time in the world to scold us, soon,_ he thinks.

_"Oughf!”_ The grunt is more surprise than pain. His armor absorbed the blow, spread the impact so it felt like a gentle shove – albeit, one with more power than he would have expected from a child. Bruce knows – he could take the boy down instantly with a Batarang, but doesn’t. 

_Better to let him run. Chances are he’ll lead me straight to my missing property._

They run without stopping, all the way back to their squat. Every second of the way, Jason is expecting a hand to grab him, snatch him back. He never expects to get away, but when they reach their building, Jason glances around before jumping up to grab the fire escape. There’s no one there.

Then again, he thinks as he’s reaching the top, that’s what Ana said about the alley, too.

Speaking of... Ana tumbles in the window after him, barely brushing the ground before her nightingale’s wings turn back into paws. She darts across the room, ducking through the crookedly-hanging door to their bedroom. He follows.

The main room of their squat is half-lit, hazy with the mixed light from street-lamps, neon signs, billboards, and moonlight filtering through the windows. The bedroom, however, is dark; cardboard taped over the room’s single window keeps it dim enough to sleep even in the daytime. The room contains a bare mattress, the pile of precious rags that serve as blankets in the winter months, and a single closet. Ana has tucked herself into the small space, and is shaking. 

“What? What’s wrong?” he asks, her obvious terror beginning to freak him out.

“El – el diablo!” she gasps, swinging her wide eyes from the door, to him, around the room and back.

“What – no, that was the Batman. You’ve heard of the Batman, Ana,” Jason replies in confusion. 

“No, no, es _un maligno!_ Un _diablo,_ te lo juro!” 

“What do you mean, Ana? Why? Why do you think the Batman is a devil?” 

“Porque! Porque no tiene – lo no _tiene-”_ Jason has crossed to the closet. He hugs her to him. He’s not sure what’s wrong, but he’s taking deep breaths, hoping she will follow along. She’s trying. At last, she gasps out. “I sensed – I sensed _nothing!_ He does not have a _daemon!”_

Jason freezes for a second as her words pierce him. _That would explain it. Why she didn’t warn me – warn me he was there,_ some terrified part of his brain is saying. But that’s- that’s not possible, is it? 

“Are you sure – are you sure she wasn’t there? Somewhere? Just really well hidden, or – maybe flying? Flying overhead, like a bat?” He’s asking, almost begging, because that would be the more _logical_ conclusion – but he doesn’t actually believe it. Ana’s never been wrong about a daemon's presence (or absence) _before,_ so why doubt her now? 

She’s shaking, and shaking her head, when there comes a rapping from the other room - someone knocking on the window? Ana jumps a little, startled, and then looks at him with wide eyes. _“It’s him,”_ they breathe, Jason realizing just as she does that it has to be, for her to be startled so completely. 

But he must stay calm – there’s no point in the both of them panicking. “Stay - stay here.” Ana looks at him like he’s crazy – like, _what are_ you _gonna do then?_ He rolls his eyes at her. “Just do it,” he hisses. She’s obviously still shaken, though, because she does. Even though that never should have worked in a thousand years, even though she’s usually _more_ stubborn than he is, not less.

Bruce climbs through the window, the lenses of his cowl brightening the half-light in what was once the apartment’s living area. There’s a tiny kitchenette to the right, stripped of all appliances. Past it there’s an ill-hung door; faint whispers come from that direction. To the left, across from the window is another door, likely once the main entrance to the apartment. 

He crosses the room and opens it carefully, after scoping out the rest of the room. The door opens toward him; on the other side of the opening, a rusted metal bedframe leaned against the wall blocks the opening. Through the slats he can see a hallway strewn with debris - trash and broken furniture, mostly. He closes the door. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he aims toward the other room of the apartment. 

Jason hovers at the door to their bedroom, listening as the Batman moves around the rest of his squat. “I’m not going to hurt you,” comes a voice from outside. He hesitates for a second, then steps out of the dark bedroom. 

“Like I could stop ya. Fine, just - take yer tires, okay? Jus’ - take ‘em and leave us alone,” he says. All the fight has gone out of him suddenly; he’s not terrified, not like Ana. Probably that unexplained overconfidence is back, but he’s feeling strangely… apathetic. 

For a long moment, the visitor says nothing. Just watches Jay, watching him. Then, “Those’ll stunt your growth.” 

“Huh?” Jay looks where he’s gesturing, down at his hand. At some point, Jay realizes, he must have freed a cigarette out of the squished packet in his jeans; he’s been fiddling with it unconsciously, channeling his nerves into twitching fingers. 

Disbelieving, he bites out a laugh. “What is this, a ‘say no to drugs’ thing? ‘Cause seriously, them’s nothing.” 

“What is this, a ‘say no to drugs thing? Seriously, them’s nothin’. Much worse I could be doin', promise ya,” the boy says, and Bruce is glad for the way the cowl hides most of his expression. It’s true, but it’s a truth Bruce _very much_ wishes a boy of his age had yet to learn.

He’s far – _so_ far – out of his depth here. It’s obvious the kid’s been living in this hell-hole. He can see the white of a mattress - probably, it once belonged to the bedframe outside the door - through the light spilling into the bedroom. There’s something like a coffee table, sturdy cardboard stretched over cinderblock ‘legs’, and a pile of non-perishables in one of the rotting, doorless kitchen cabinets. 

He observed other squatters on the lower floors before swinging to the kid’s window. From above, he noticed a large section of roof is missing over what looks like the main stairwell. He figures he knows why the kid takes the fire escape now – although, come to think of it - _How the hell did he get the tires up here?_

Bruce takes a few steps back to the window where he - and the kid - entered. He looks out. For the first time, he notices the bundles of rope on the fire escape landing.

He turns back to the kid. “Tell you what. Show me how you got my tires up here, and I’ll buy you a hot meal.”

Jason narrows his eyes. He expected – well, he didn’t really _expect_ anything, except that the Batman would take the tires back, maybe hit him a few times to teach him a lesson, and be gone. Now it seems he – what, wants to make friends?

“And if I say no?” he asks, stalling while he tries to figure out how the hell he got into this situation – and how to get _out._

“No?” The Batman sounds surprised, as if the possibility never occurred to him. And Jason knows – right then, Jason realizes: _the Batman’s_ forrado? _Shoulda guessed it, but somehow, I never thought…_

“Look, kid,” Batman starts. 

“Jay,” Jason corrects, and then winces immediately. His mental voice – which sounds eerily like Ana, go figure – is calling him ten kinds of idiot for giving out something so close to his real name, but he _hates_ to be called 'kid'.

After all, it’s what Willis and the rest called him.

“Jay. Here’s the thing. You stole my tires. You’re squatting here, in a condemned building. You’re by yourself – an orphan or a runaway, I don’t know, but you’re definitely too young to be on your own. I know how many calories it takes to keep warm-" 

Jason suppresses a snort. _Like hell you do,_ he thinks, but the cape is still talking.

"- and I doubt you’ve had enough lately. I don’t _want_ to have to take you in. But if you don’t start working with me, I don’t see what other options will be left.”

And Jason – the breath catches in his throat. Suddenly, it’s like – he’s kept his cool long enough. He feels himself start to hyperventilate and he can’t stop it. Ana – Ana feels so _very_ far away, in the closet on the other side of the room. The tugging in his gut points straight to her, and it makes him feel like he can’t _breathe._

_Ana. Ana. “Ana!”_ he gasps.

_“Jay!”_

Bruce is berating himself silently as the kid’s breathing starts to pick up. He knows a panic attack coming on when he sees one, but he’s caught off-guard. Jay had seemed fine just a second ago, certainly hadn’t an ounce of fear in his body language. Either Bruce had overlooked something, or “Jay” was just _really_ good at faking it.

 _“Ahh!”_ The boy gasps out – or was it _Anna?_

“Jay!” And there she is, the daemon Bruce has been subtly searching for, thinking she must have hid herself in his clothes, or perhaps flitting around out of sight like that firefly he’d seen earlier. She comes tumbling out of the bedroom, some kind of massive canine, still all awkward limbs and oversized paws, and barrels right into Jay. She’s knocked him over, and after a second Bruce realizes it wasn’t on accident. She stands over his prone form like she’s guarding something precious and snarls in his direction.

“Back, _diablo!_ Él es _mio,_ you can’t have him!” she’s growling in his direction.

Bruce just blinks at her, not that anyone could tell that through the cowl. He stays still, afraid any movement on his part will just terrify the kid more. He feels a brief pang, wishing for Dick - unlike Batman, Robin wasn’t purposefully _designed_ to bring terror to Gotham’s citizens.

The slight form under the daemon groans, then huffs. In a moment, his breathing has settled.

“Ana, I told you, he’s not a devil,” the kid says, half-exasperated. 

Bruce doesn’t know what to say to _that._ “I’m not going to hurt you,” he repeats.

“I - I know. She- hang on.” The kid - he can't be more then 12 or 13 - pushes his daemon out of the way, so he can sit up. She refuses to go far, but that’s okay, because the boy man-handles her into his lap anyway. “She thinks you’re _un malvado._ Some kind of devil, or something. Because you don't - you don't have a daemon familiar,” he explains. 

It takes all the wind out of Bruce’s sails. In all the years he’s done this, he’s never _actually_ had that particular issue brought up. Sure, he leaves Rhiannon behind when he patrols – all that training to lengthen their tether wasn't for _nothing_ – but the criminals he fights, the people he helps... all have just assumed she was watching them from the shadows. That she was nearby, but staying hidden so he couldn’t be identified.

Trust it to be a child to realize the truth – that she actually _wasn’t_ there. 

Although, hang on – the pup’s not asking why his daemon isn’t _there._ She’s assumed he doesn’t have one _at all._ Bruce can’t entirely repress the shudder that comes over him at the thought.

“I have a daemon,” he growls, somewhat stupidly. It’s the kid’s turn to look skeptical, and Bruce is feeling just off-balance enough to be be defensive. “I do. Her name’s Rh-Riesling,” he says.

“Oh yeah? What form is she?” It may be meant as an accusation, but, regardless, there's curiosity seeping into the kid's voice. 

“She – I can’t answer that. It’s... a secret.” 

The daemon scoffs, but, surprisingly, the boy nods. “Would give away your identity, huh?”

“I – it’s possible, yes,” Batman allows. _It’s impossible it wouldn’t,_ Bruce thinks.

“In that case, I hope you lied about the name, too,” the kid retorts, dismissively. Seemingly recovered from his earlier panic, he climbs back to his feet.

“So,” Jay says when he’s standing again, the Batman silently watching. “I help you get your tires down, and then you leave us alone?” he asks, warily.

“You help me get the tires back on the car, we get you something to eat, and then we _talk,"_ the Batman - the Dark Knight, terror of Gotham’s underworld and World's Greatest Detective - corrects. 

“Hey! There’s a step in there that wasn’t there before,” Jason protests. Sadly, his growl is much less effective than the costumed vigilante's.

Knowing better than to try and argue with a man dressed as a giant bat, he sighs internally. Already going for the rope on the fire escape, Ana follows close at his heels.

It’s a good thing, too, or else Jason might have seen the Batman _smile._ He _really_ wouldn’t have known what to do with that. 

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone has strong feelings/random ideas about what different batfam/other DC heros (& villians!) daemons should be, I'd love to hear them! Here or over on tumblr [@daemons-not-rogues](https://daemons-not-rogues.tumblr.com)


End file.
